Dialog | Hakim knows hate

On occasion, we present to you an exchange between a public figure and a being who impresses him. This week, documentary filmmaker Léa Clermont-Dion recounts her interview with humanitarian worker Hakim Lebeau.

Installed in front of a screen in the newsroom of The Press, I discuss with Hakim Lebeau, crisis manager in armed conflicts for an international humanitarian organization. He talks to me live from Lisbon where he is waiting to discover his next destination: a war zone. I was supposed to meet him in Montreal the same week, but his employer ordered him to return to Europe immediately.

Our chance meeting dates back to six months earlier, in April 2021, in Montreal. I was ostentatiously celebrating my 31st birthday when I ran into Hakim. The image was broken. In this bar crowded with Montrealers dazed by drunkenness, he told me his job to him. His daily life includes negotiating with armed combatants to ensure the survival of civilians.

I wanted to talk to him in order to sound out his perspective on hate, a subject that has obsessed me for years and which even prompted me to undertake a post-doctorate.

Over the past decade, Hakim has spoken to hundreds of warlords in over 40 countries; from the Congo to Nagorno-Karabakh, a region between Armenia and Azerbaijan. His daily life is punctuated by machine-gun fire, bodies strewing the ground, screams, images of torture, sobs, despair. The years have forged him a shell in the face of tragedy. Except that the explosions continue to disturb his sleep.

Hakim hesitated to confide in me. Talking to a media involves significant risks. That’s why I can’t name his next destination or the organization he works for. “I have to keep a low profile, because talking to you can be dangerous. I interact with generals of opposing clans. I must remain neutral. It’s delicate. You see, my role is to ensure the evacuation of civilians. We’re trying to save lives. I am often the first to cross the front line. I must not be in the light. »

Hakim agreed to chat anyway, because he had a lot to say about hate.

“I interact with soldiers from a regular army, representatives of an armed group or a criminal group,” he says. There is always the possibility of discussing with these people. By dint of dialogue, they can understand and open up to discussion.

“And they trust you?”

– Yes, because I do not judge them. I’m not here to lecture them or explain life to them. This attitude would not make it possible to advance the negotiations. »

How do we dialogue with belligerents who may resort to violence?

“The first thing I learned was to listen and empathize. It’s the only way for me to interact with these people to negotiate. Listen, don’t blame. It is necessary to find compromises. Violence is learned. Hate is possibly a way for them to express their fear, their trauma. what they have been through. We do not know the past of the individuals. And sometimes these people are forced to do so. If you’re in a group where everyone incites violence, you may be forced to take action. »

Hakim in no way excuses the actions committed, but his talks are aimed at saving the lives of civilians. He understands that some actors have no choice but to follow the pack.

And the pack does all kinds of things. Hakim sees a huge difference between individual behavior and group attitude. In his eyes, a crowd can incite people to commit acts that a person would not dare to commit alone.

Hakim explains to me that in a group, a dynamic of self-monitoring quickly sets in. Violence legitimized by a leader embodies behavior encouraged by authority to be repeated. This balance of power then influences the relationships of all members of the group. It becomes dangerous because people act like sheep, in a gregarious way. Their goal ? “Being part of the gang”, not suffering a rejection that could prove fatal. The hatred of others is slowly but surely creeping in. It builds itself.

I believe that hatred can be developed over time in individuals. By dint of being bombarded with a message, you end up saying to yourself that maybe this is survival… and that you have to do like the others. So take up arms.

Hatred also spreads like a virus. The media have a big role to play in this spread. Hakim recalls the Rwandan genocide and the role played by radio stations in popularizing violence. The words do not fly away. They root an ideology in people’s minds, generate mistrust and suspicion. In this sense, social networks are of particular concern to him. Because the images make people react and encourage some to take action. And these can be modified to manipulate.

Why this barbarism?

And speaking of images and manipulation, I wonder why rape is a weapon of war. This is a question that has haunted me since I was a little girl. The question also worries Hakim. He and I were marked by dehumanizing illustrations of sordid violence, including sexual violence, seen on the news while covering armed conflict. In my film about online misogyny, I salute you bitch, it’s the most recurrent sexist insult: “Girls, shut up or we’ll rape you. »

Hakim explains to me that, in certain wars, we have seen men rape women in front of their brother, their husband, then behead one of them in front of the family. It is barbarism, the control of the human over another, the state of nature. Without laws or order.

I wonder if the woman therefore becomes an object of submission, of control, even more markedly in times of war. So we come back to a certain primitive form of misogyny, where the balance of power has the upper hand. It’s appalling. So why rape as a weapon of war, Hakim? He does not know it. If he knew, we might be better able to eradicate him.

While the arms fighters who lead and influence wars sometimes have pecuniary interests, the same cannot be said of the followers who follow them.

Hakim thinks hatred is more prevalent among uneducated individuals. This reflection reminds me of the human dynamics described by Primo Levi, whose masterful pen has made us better understand the relations of domination within the Holocaust.

What scares Hakim the most are child soldiers.

They are indoctrinated from an early age, often intoxicated by drugs, their vision is impaired and their judgment irrational. The aid worker is wary of them, because their actions are unpredictable and potentially very dangerous.

When he crosses some during check points, the adrenaline gets on board and the symptoms of hypervigilance impose themselves on him. It’s the survival instinct. In this sense, he strongly believes in education. Because it is possible to contaminate virgin minds to want to hate to the point of killing with a machete.

Deconstructing hatred therefore means having a dialogue with the actors involved. In his work, he sometimes meets these armed combatants and explains to them what a war crime is or even reminds them of the Geneva conventions which govern the conduct of armed conflicts. He thus tries to make belligerents aware of the disastrous consequences of their actions without moralizing.

In some cases it works. In others, it is a failure. But its objective remains the same: to prevent hatred through education.

Light despite everything

So, is there any hope in all this mess? How can we maintain faith in humanity? Hakim has seen sordid images during his career. Hope is there very close, in every human being. He remembers this woman who, to fetch water, had to cross bandits on her way. Sometimes she was raped once or twice a day. Yet she kept smiling for her children. She clung to love.

Through this inhuman hatred, there is luminous humanity. The one that remains. The one who scores. Because, despite being encouraged to hate each other, humans sometimes break through the barriers of the frontline and join hands.

Hakim has an irresistible smile. That of benevolence. It’s his engine. When I ask him if he is afraid of dying, he no longer smiles. “Yes, very often. If I weren’t afraid to die, I would be putting myself in danger. It is my fear of death that keeps me alive. »

This is why he will eventually stop practicing this perilous profession which has too often isolated him. To start a family. Find peace where it is. Alone, in his hotel room, traveling from war to war after all these years, he gave a lot. Humanist, he gleaned joy through horror.